


Russian Roulette

by tricksterity



Series: Everyone Lives 'Verse [2]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Everyone Is Alive, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2418266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricksterity/pseuds/tricksterity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wakes up in the aftermath of the previous nights drunken confession to the entire pack that he's been dating (and sleeping with) Peter Hale. There are thirty missed calls and fifty text messages, including one from his father, and he's got to face the music sometime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Russian Roulette

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1821658) and will probably make much more sense if you read it first.

The sunlight spilled in warm from the small gap between Peter’s black out curtains, and Stiles sighed and stretched. He’s pretty sure that he should have one hell of a headache, and he does feel pretty groggy, but the hand splayed on his stomach told him that Peter was probably keeping his hangover at bay for the meantime.

“Morning,” Peter mumbled from behind Stiles, slipping a leg through Stiles’ and entwining them. Stiles smiled and leaned back against the warm, familiar body, yawning, feeling Peter nuzzle into the back of his neck.

“Wha’s the time?” Stiles muttered back, reaching behind him to thread his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“Just past ten,” Peter replied. “We had a pretty eventful night last night.” Stiles ignored the innuendo lacing the man’s purr and feels the ache in his body. Not a bad ache, otherwise the pain drain would be taking that too, but a good ache like after a workout, or after a particularly acrobatic bout of sex. At this point Stiles could barely remember anything other than he had been completely drunk and very horny, and Peter had been amused and possessive, if the tingling scratch marks down his back say anything.

Stiles hummed complacently, enjoying the feeling of Peter dragging his fingertips feather-light up and down his sternum and the small kisses being placed on the back of his neck. Then something like ice shuddered down his spine in a cold flash, and he remembered what happened the previous night. His heart jumped into his throat and his stomach dropped like that horrifying moment where you think you’ve lost your phone, and Peter stilled behind him, listening to his heartbeat start to rise.

“Ohhhhh fuck,” Stiles swore. “Shit- god fucking dammit Jesus Christ!!”

“I was waiting for that,” Peter muttered quietly. “I had to turn your phone off, it’s been ringing all morning. At last check you had about ten missed calls from Scott, five from Lydia and a few from Erica and Kira. I’m surprised Derek and Cora haven’t smashed my door down by now.”

“They’re gonna kill me,” Stiles whined pitifully, turning around to burrow into Peter’s neck as if he could block out the rest of the world. Peter wrapped his arms around the teenager and pressed a small kiss to his temple.

“They’re probably going to kill me first, if it makes you feel any better,” Peter replied with what was probably supposed to be a comforting tone. “You should’ve seen the look on Lydia’s face.”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” Stiles mumbled into Peter’s chest, exhaling forcefully. “I just wanna stay here forever and never, ever face them. Can we do that?”

“Sorry, darling, but I don’t think that’s an option,” Peter replied, running a hand up and down Stiles’ back. “We’ll have to face the music sometime, you knew this was going to happen.” Stiles groaned and wrapped his limbs around Peter like an octopus, refusing to listen to him. Maybe if they just denied it hard enough, the previous night never would’ve happened. Or maybe everyone else would’ve been so drunk they didn’t remember it. That could work.

Peter reached over the younger boy to grab his phone from the bedside table and turned it on, watching the screen light up. It vibrated in his hand with a few missed calls and messages – around thirty various missed calls and about fifty text messages.

“Oh, one of these calls is from your father,” Peter noted, scrolling through the red names of the missed calls. “That should be fun.” Stiles almost sobbed into Peter’s chest.

“Boyd and Erica are apparently finding this situation quite amusing,” Peter informed him, scrolling through the texts. “Nothing from Derek or Cora, which can only spell disaster I’m sure. The majority of them are from Scott, mostly misspelled and nearly illegible whether that’s due to alcohol or just his personality I’m not sure.”

Stiles jabbed Peter in the side for that, and the older man chuckled.

“About eight angry texts from Lydia with full stops ending all of them,” Peter said, noting the anger that surrounded the perfectly grammatical messages. “Isaac’s confused, as per usual, and Kira has just sent a combination of ellipses, question marks and emoticons. Oh, Allison’s openly pissed off, lovely.”

“You can stop any time now,” Stiles whined.

“There’s even a message from my daughter,” Peter said, clicking on her name. “She’s a little grossed out to be honest, and wants to know if you ‘get with’ all of the Hales.”

“I’m just glad she wasn’t there last night,” Stiles muttered.

“And the message from your father… ah yes, Derek’s gone down to the station to talk to him,” Peter said with an amused air about him, and Stiles drove his forehead into the man’s collarbone.

“Not funny, Peter,” Stiles groaned. Peter placed the phone back onto the bedside table and used the motion to roll over, trapping Stiles underneath him. The wolf grinned and pressed a kiss to the boy’s lips, slow and all consuming until Stiles’ legs were wrapped around his waist and his fingers were in his hair.

“Mm, good distraction,” Stiles whispered when they pulled apart. “Is this like our last meal before we march off to death row?”

“Probably,” Peter grinned, leaning down to nip at Stiles’ jaw and down his throat, the teenager baring his neck and moaning quietly. He sucked at the base of Stiles’ throat, trailing his fingers down his chest, enjoying the way Stiles arched up underneath him. He had every intention of slowly, torturously wrecking Stiles until he forgot everything but Peter’s name. 

It was just over two hours later when the two pulled up outside Derek’s loft, having been informed that an emergency meeting was being called and if the two of them didn’t show up, they’d have a home invasion consisting of five werewolves, one true alpha, one werecoyote, a hunter, banshee and a kitsune. Stiles’ fingers tightened over the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. Peter grabbed his wrist and brought his hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles gently. 

“They’ll be angrier with me than you, and what are they going to do except yell and growl a lot?” Peter comforted. “There’s no way they’re going to get me to give you up, and we’ve got a certain someone on our side anyway.”

“I know,” sighed Stiles, looking up to the imposing apartment block in front of them. He took a deep breath and then hauled himself out of the jeep, wrapping his fingers around Peter’s, and began to stride purposefully towards the loft. They were just emerging onto Derek’s floor when Peter shoved Stiles against the wall and claimed his mouth with a burning hot intensity that had Stiles clinging helplessly to the man’s shirt, his knees weak. The wolf pulled back with beta-blue eyes and a sharp grin that Stiles couldn’t help returning. 

Stiles steeled himself, squeezed Peter’s hand once, and then slid open the door to Derek’s loft. Immediately ten pairs of eyes slid over to them, whatever discussion they were having falling silent. Stiles and Peter strode down the stairs, Stiles pulling an air of confidence around him with help from Peter’s presence, and simply raised an eyebrow.

“Well? Don’t let us interrupt your riveting discussion,” Peter said, gesturing for everyone to continue. Immediately half of them opened their mouths and began yelling in an incoherent cacophony, while Derek and Cora just glared with twin expressions, and Erica was smirking in amusement as she leaned against Boyd.

Eventually Scott’s voice got past everyone’s with a loud, “what the _fuck_ Stiles!?” Everyone quieted down and turned to the couple who were standing side-by-side with arms crossed and identical expressions of vague amusement.

“Could you maybe be a little more specific with your question, Scotty?” Stiles drawled, and Lydia marched forward with heels clicking loudly on the concrete floor.

“We want to know what the hell you think you’re doing with Peter Hale!” Lydia demanded, furious. Stiles did feel a little guilty, knowing how betrayed Lydia would feel by one of her best friends sleeping with the guy who’d possessed her, mauled her and caused her to go pretty much batshit insane. 

“Well for one I think I’m having amazing sex,” Stiles replied. “And secondly, it’s really all of your fault. You were all ‘ _Stiles stay back with Peter_ ’ and ‘ _it’s too dangerous for Stiles to go with us_ ’, what did you think was gonna happen when you left me with creeperwolf for nights on end?”

“We trusted you to keep him safe, Peter,” Derek said lowly, glaring at his uncle. Peter shrugged.

“You really should’ve expanded on your definition of _safe_ ,” Peter drawled. “I kept him alive and made sure he didn’t get clawed up by some creature of the night, didn’t I?”

“Well…” Stiles muttered, and Lydia scoffed at his innuendo.

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping with my dad,” Malia piped up from the back of the room. “That’s just gross, especially since you hooked up with me.”

“To be fair, Malia, at the time I was partially possessed by a thousand year old trickster fox spirit and I was pretty sleep deprived,” Stiles defended. “I’m not saying it wasn’t awesome, because it was, but… look at him! How was I supposed to resist him in those jeans?”

“He is pretty hot,” Erica admitted with a shrug.

“Thank you!” Stiles exclaimed with a nod towards his now-favourite werewolf (Peter excluded, obviously). 

“That’s not the point, Stiles!” Allison yelled. “The point is that you’re sleeping with the guy who massacred the town, killed my aunt, died, _came back to life by possessing Lydia_ and can’t be trusted!”

“Well to be fair, your aunt set his _entire family on fire_ , and yes I’m still pissed at him for using Lydia like that, and in case you’ve forgotten, I killed quite a few people when I was possessed!” Stiles argued back. “I trust him just as much as I’d trust any of you, so can you please respect my decision? I’m not a child!”

“How do we know that he isn’t using you or isn’t Stockholm Syndrome-ing you?” Scott asked, arms crossed and glaring at Peter with alpha red eyes.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Stiles sighed. “I kissed him first, okay? He was a perfect gentleman and even refused to sleep with me until I turned eighteen!”

“You mean this has been going on for _over a year_?” Cora asked.

“Closer to two,” Stiles informed. “You guys are pretty unobservant for a bunch of sense-heightened werewolves.” Scott opened his mouth to say something when there were footsteps from outside, and everyone turned around to see the Sheriff enter the room, looking slightly flushed and a little confused.

“Why did I get a text telling me that there was an emergency?” he asked, holding up his phone. “Morning Peter,” he tacked onto the end.

“John,” Peter said with a nod of his head. “Busy day?”

“Not until now. Could someone tell me what’s going on? I really should be back at the station,” the Sheriff said, looking around at the gob smacked faces surrounding Derek’s table.

“You mean you _knew_?” Scott asked in shock.

“Know what, Scott? I don’t have ESP,” the Sheriff sighed.

“About us,” Stiles said, gesturing between himself and Peter. “Apparently it’s a big enough deal to warrant an emergency meeting with pretty much every supernatural creature in town.”

“Of course I know,” the Sheriff said with a frown. “Why wouldn’t I? He’s my son, and I’m the Sheriff. Peter comes over for dinner on Wednesday nights.” Stiles couldn’t help but laugh at Scott’s expression. “Now if that’s all, I’ve got to get back to the station. I hope this all works out well, you coming over tomorrow Peter?”

“Hopefully,” Peter said, gesturing to everyone in the room. “Have an uneventful day, John.” The Sheriff laughed and left the room, his walkie-talkie crackling as he left. 

“Looks like your plan backfired, Derek,” Peter said after a few seconds of silence, and Stiles couldn’t help but laugh and bury his head into Peter’s shoulder, his own shoulders shaking with laughter. 

“That was the funniest thing, oh my god that went so much better than I thought it would,” Stiles finally said when he could speak again, wiping the tears from his eyes. “That’s why you don’t go snitch on me at the station, Derek.”

“I can’t believe your dad’s okay with it,” Scott said, looking a little subdued and shocked.

“He reacted pretty much the same as you lot when he found out at first,” Stiles said. “Then I brought Peter over for dinner, they talked about his ‘intentions’ with me and they get along pretty well now. We’re kind of in this for the long haul, we’re not just sleeping together, although the sex _is_ pretty great.” Peter wrapped his arm around Stiles’ waist and the teenager leaned into him and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“I have nor have I ever had any intentions to hurt Stiles, so you can either accept this or side-eye and ignore us for the rest of time like you teenagers are so prone to doing,” Peter said casually. Stiles raised his eyebrows and waited for someone to speak.

“I don’t mind,” Erica said with a shrug, and Boyd nodded with her. “It’s kinda hot actually, but that’s just my opinion.” 

“I’m confused, but I don’t really care,” Isaac said, and Stiles rolled his eyes at the beta. 

“Well I wasn’t really around during the whole psycho-alpha thing, so I don’t really mind? As long as you’re both happy, I guess,” Kira shrugged, and Malia scoffed.

“I can’t believe my girlfriend’s fine with you dating my father,” Malia said, upper lip curled, and Kira laughed and wrapped her arm around Malia’s waist. “As long as you don’t be too gross in my presence, I suppose I can tolerate it.”

“Thanks, honey,” Peter said sarcastically, and Malia pulled a face at him. 

“Honestly, I was kind of expecting something like this,” Cora drawled. “You’ve always been way too creepy for your own good, Uncle Peter.”

“Uh… what does that mean?” Stiles asked, mostly confused.

“It means she isn’t surprised I’m dating someone who’s half my age,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “Thank you, darling niece.” 

“If you hurt him, I will claw your face off,” Cora said with a casual shrug, inspecting her claws. Stiles turned to see Derek, Scott, Lydia and Allison who all looked angry and grossed out.

“C’mon guys,” Stiles said with a sigh. “I don’t want this to change anything between us. I’m old enough to make my own decisions, and yes he did some pretty shitty things in the past, but he makes me happy, okay? I’m not saying we all have to go on double dates and feed each other French fries or anything, I’m just asking that you at least give this a chance, because I can tell you now I have no intentions of breaking up with Peter,” he said stubbornly, and Peter’s hand tightened on his hip in support. 

“I can promise you that I have no intentions of hurting Stiles,” Peter said sincerely, for what was probably one of the first times in front of them. “And if he ever wants me to leave, then I won’t argue. I genuinely care about him, which I know is difficult for you to grasp, and I understand that.” 

“Yeah maybe if you’d ever been anything other than a manipulative sociopath, we’d believe you,” Lydia muttered venomously.

“You never even apologized to Lydia for using her!” Allison exclaimed, and Peter shrugged.

“I’m not sorry I did it, it was necessary at the time, but I am sorry for any traumatizing effects it might’ve had on you. It couldn’t have been anyone else though,” Peter said. “Before I knew you were a banshee, I knew that you had a connection to the dead, and knew that you would be the only one to be able to bring me back.” 

“That’s not much of an apology,” Lydia sniffed, although it was clear that it had some effect on Lydia. Stiles looked at Scott, emulating those puppy-dog eyes that he so often used against him, appealing to Scott’s sense of good. Eventually Scott sighed and retracted the alpha eyes.

“Fine, Stiles,” he sighed. “I trust you, and I trust that you know what you’re doing and I know how stubborn you can get whenever someone tries to change your mind.” Stiles grinned like he’d been given a compliment. “But if Peter even does one thing wrong, he’s gonna have to answer to me.”

“Thanks Scotty,” Stiles smiled sincerely. 

“Ugh,” Allison muttered. “Don’t even think for one second that I’m okay with this at all, and I _will_ be keeping my crossbow on me at all times. But I suppose I won’t actively try to kill you.”

“I wouldn’t ask for any more, little Argent,” Peter replied with bared teeth. Stiles didn’t even want to get into the whole your-family-killed-Peter’s discussion at this point, and looked pleadingly to Lydia.

“Fine!” she relented, hands in the air. “Have sex with the psycho zombie wolf, I don’t care!”

“Thanks, Lydie,” Stiles grinned, knowing that was as good as it was going to get. He then turned to Derek, who looked less angry and more thoughtful. 

“Penny for your thoughts, dear nephew,” Peter said with a smug grin, and Stiles elbowed him in the side. Derek was quiet for a few tense moments, arms crossed and staring at his uncle, before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Stiles was one of the first friends I made when I came back after losing everything,” Derek began, and Stiles blinked in shock. “I care about him, he’s part of our pack, and I still don’t entirely trust you. I do, however, remember how you were with Oliver before the fire, and I can see that with you and Stiles. If you hurt him, I will claw out your throat again,” Derek said sincerely, and Peter nodded. Stiles’ vision went slightly blurry.

“Thank you, Derek,” Peter said, and Stiles struggled to swallow through the lump in his throat. 

“I mean, I can’t exactly judge based on my own track record,” Derek joked, and Stiles burst out laughing. He felt Peter’s arm tighten around his waist and Stiles wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck, burying his face into his shoulder as he shook with laughter and what he would forever deny as having a little bit of a sob.

“Gross,” Lydia muttered, but her tone was slightly teasing, and Stiles snorted.

“So I hate to break up this adorable moment,” Derek interrupted, sarcasm heavy in his voice, “but I did actually call this meeting for reasons other than my uncle’s sex life. Apparently there are harpies in town.”

“Again?” Scott groaned, and Stiles managed to untangle himself from Peter’s arms.

“Burn ‘em extra crispy?” Stiles asked.

“Where did we put the flamethrower?” Isaac muttered to himself, and the tension from the room eventually dissipated into planning and tactics, Derek pulling out his phone to invite over Braeden and her large selection of weaponry.

Peter never once let go of Stiles’ hand.

**Author's Note:**

> **If you liked my writing and you're interested in me writing something for you, click[HERE](http://tricksterity.tumblr.com/post/140544637431) for more information! **


End file.
